


Come to us disguised.

by noveltea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you confessed your sins," Castiel reminded her, "you'd never get anything done."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come to us disguised.

She jerked awake, reaching reflexively for the knife she keeps under her pillow only to have her hand touch nothing but bed sheets. It's another half-second before reality sets in, past the thumping headache, and she realises she's not in the motel room she'd booked with Sam.

She's one block down the street, and trying to remember whether the night was worth it.

One glance to her left and Deanna can see the sleeping form of Matt – or was it Mike – the bartender from the night before. She knew better than to be there when he woke up. She'd push Sam out of bed and they'd hit the road at sunrise, leaving this town, and her not-quite-regrets behind them.

It was a cycle she knew well.

With practiced ease she slipped silently from the bed, picking up her discarded jeans and shirt. In between sex and sleep she'd managed to reclaim her underwear which made exiting the bedroom less dramatic. Getting dressed outside the room would be less likely to wake Matt-Mike up and generally help avoid the messy morning after drama.

In the hallway mirror she caught sight of her reflection and groaned softly. Her hair was a disaster – certainly not fit to be seen walking the block back to the motel – and she looked tired. She felt it, too, not that she would ever admit it. The handprint left over from her rescue from Hell stood out a bright red on her stomach. Relief washed over her when she pulled her shirt over the top of it.

She didn't look back as she shut the door to Matt-Mike's house.

She wasn't expecting to run straight into her very own saviour at 3am in the morning.

He frowned, staring pointedly at the Cubs cap she'd acquired on her way out.

"Yeah," she smiled sweetly, "I'm going to the special hell for women who steal baseball paraphernalia. It was either that or the special hell for ridiculously tangled hair."

Castiel wasn't impressed. It wasn't exactly surprising to her. "You of all people shouldn't joke about Hell," he reminded her.

She flinches at the unwanted memories, and how easily _he_ reminds her of what she went through. She wanted nothing more than to forget. "Character flaw," she replied flippantly, and walked past him. She figured he had legs, his host's body certainly had legs (and other more interesting body parts, but wasn't that a bad place for her mind to go?), and if he was interested in lecturing her, he could use them. Did angels need exercise?

"You should get some sleep," he commented, matching her stride. It was dark out, and the moonlight made his eyes seem even brighter; she kept her eyes front and center, and off her guiding angel.

She snorted. "I sleep."

"A full night's sleep," he amended. "We need you to be ready. Rested."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil, for your expert opinion," she replied, "I'll take it under advisement."

There was silence. "Dr. Phil?"

Deanna might have started laughing if the pounding in her head hadn't decided to resurface. "Never mind," she muttered. She crossed the road without looking; no headlights lit up the street, and not another soul was to be seen.

Then Castiel was in front of her and she had to stop herself from colliding into him. "Jesus, Cas," she cursed before realising what she'd said. "Shit." And things just got better and better. She took a deep breath, and avoided looking at him. "This is a really bad time for one of your lectures."

She could have sworn the bastard smirked. "Now why would you need a lecture, Deanna?" It was rhetorical, and she treated it as such. If he wanted to play games, he could do it some other time. Or, hopefully, never.

In a twist of circumstances, Deanna took a step closer, invading his space – or what would have been his space if the angels knew what personal space was. "You want me to confess my sins?" she asked, injecting as much disdain into her words as she could muster with a hangover.

"If you confessed your sins," Castiel reminded her, "you'd never get anything done."

She raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just made a joke." She patted his arm. "Do you need to lie down? I don't want you to strain yourself."

He ignored her sarcasm – he was good at doing that, she'd noticed. It just made her try harder. But he knew how to get her attention. "Lillith's broken another seal."

Deanna felt the blood run from her face. "Shit. When? Where?" She was looking forward to the day when she killed the demon bitch herself. Sam might claim he wants to kill her, but she had a stronger one.

"Last night," Castiel said, "and it doesn't matter where it was. It was one of our battles, not yours."

Secret angel business.

"Doesn't change anything, does it?" She wanted to hit something, badly. "Lillith's got one over all us. She's moving faster than anyone can keep up."

He sighed, a bone weary sigh that she never would have imagined coming from an angel. "The battle's not done yet," he reminded her, and she wished he could have pretended to be more optimistic about it.

If she'd had a drink, she would have toasted, _Damn straight_. Instead all she could do was nod her head.

Castiel's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Deanna hated that she drew so much comfort from something so simple. "Get some sleep," he reiterated. "You have a long journey ahead of you in the morning."

Then he was gone, leaving the lonely night between Deanna and the motel.


End file.
